


Cure for sour mood

by Pingviini



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (kinda), Awkward Flirting, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Banner-centric, Could be considered non-con(read the notes), Drinking & Talking, Drunk Tony Stark, Exhibitionism, Flirting, Foot Jobs, Humour, M/M, Poor Peter Parker, Sexual Content, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Tony is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pingviini/pseuds/Pingviini
Summary: Would Tony not have been so drunk, and Bruce not so concentrated on keeping himself from turning red (or green), they probably would’ve noticed Peter Parker hitting his head on the underside of the table in his haze to get up after noticing Tony’s foot in a very inappropriate place





	Cure for sour mood

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there and thank you for opening this work!
> 
> I really like MCU Pepper Potts but I also love Bruce and Tony together, so here's my attempt.
> 
> But before getting into the fic I'd first like to talk about a few things:
> 
> First of all let's talk about the non-con tag: I basically tagged it just to be safe. Although in my head this fic isn't something to be taken seriously I recognize that sexual harrassment etc are real problems and I do not condone the sort of behaviour described in this work. In any case, Bruce could escape the situation at any time and Tony knows this (and is prbbly counting on it), so the actions could be considered consensual.
> 
> Secondly, I don't like cheating and, as I previously mentioned, I like MCU Pepper Potts. I have to say it pains me that she is disregarded in this fic almost completely. But I felt it to be necessary to make Tony seem as big of an asshole as possible and to create the moral conflict Bruce has.
> 
> Thirdly, I'm still only practising writing this many characters into the same "scene" so I apologize if it comes off as unnatural at times as I'm not the most skilled writer.
> 
> And lastly I'd like to remind you that I'm not a native speaker so there are bound to be mistakes. Feel free to correct me if you feel like it.

Although Bruce Banner still hadn’t (and he doubted he ever would) reached full confidence in his power of controlling the other side of himself, he still considered getting recruited to the Avengers to be among the best things that had ever happened to him. Before the Avengers he had seen himself as nothing but a menace to society and even now he didn’t really consider himself to be a hero, but he thought it felt nice to be included in something – especially in something where he could use his own inner turmoil as a weapon. And even if he disliked the reality that he could accidentally go rampant on a mission, it was comforting to know there was room for some error; The benefit of having strong friends.  
  
But being a part of the Avengers also included formalities, such as the gala he is currently stuck in, which were the things he had found himself hating the most. He usually felt out of place. Especially in these big halls with white beautifully decorated long tables, seemingly never-ending fancy courses of meals that were more mouthfuls than actual meals and so many glasses of different drinks it was almost difficult to operate a fork and a knife without knocking at least one over. He didn’t consider himself antisocial, not by any means, he just wasn’t as much of a people person he used to be. Going out was usually awfully stressful opposed to an opportunity to vent as it was to so many other people. Albeit these other people didn’t have to worry about the possibility of turning into a green raging monster.   
  
In the beginning Bruce had always been hyperaware of people around him whispering, pointing and talking about him, which was the last thing he wanted. With time he had learned that zoning out whenever no one was communicating with him directly was enough to ease his anxiety over the possibility of getting anxious over the possibility of losing his cool – or, in other words, turning into a green monster and smashing stuff.   
  
But that also meant –   
  
”—Banner will back me up on this, won’t you?”   
  
Bruce Banner catches the rest of Tony Stark’s sentence upon hearing his name. Only then does he realize he had yet again been so completely consumed by his own thoughts that he had lost track of time and space and the way Tony’s eyes are staring at him expectantly is beginning to build a familiar unease inside his chest. Bruce doubts the topic is anything of importance, but then again, everything was serious for Tony if there was a chance of him losing.   
  
“Seems to me like you’re alone in this,” Rhodey, who is seated on Banner’s right, chuckles cheerily and smacks Bruce on the back making the man in question flinch, which then again makes a chain reaction of people jumping slightly on their seats. Tony, on the other hand, doesn’t move a muscle. Instead his brown eyes stay sharp and glued on Bruce’s face examining its features thoroughly. Bruce doesn’t dare to breathe under the stare and therefore is pleased when the Stark’s attention shifts elsewhere but then again it probably only meant that the man had gone through with a trail of thought and had come to a conclusion. And because Bruce had noticed very soon after meeting the infamous playboy millionaire that his mind didn’t always work in the most conventional ways, the thought of Tony making his own conclusions concerning basic human psychology - especially Bruce’s - feels always somehow menacing to him.   
  
“I’d really appreciate if you’d avoid doing that in the future,” he tells Rhodey, tone conflicted somewhere between irritation (mostly towards himself) and apologetic.   
  
“I actually agree with Mr Stark,” Peter pipes up making Tony smile and blow a kiss to the boy’s general direction.   
  
Bruce looks at Tony from under his brows when he hears a quiet thud that seemed to originate somewhere close to Tony’s feet.   
  
“See?” Tony Stark says ceremoniously. “Someone gets it.”   
  
“Hold on! That doesn’t count,” Sam intervenes after swallowing his mouthful a little too quickly to do it properly and coughs before continuing: “I bet he’d agree if Tony suddenly said the moon was made out of cheese.”   
  
Peter Parker’s face twists at the statement oddly but he doesn’t get the chance to protest as Tony is quicker.   
  
“Actually,” the man begins speaking into his pint but instead of putting the drink down and continuing he holds up one finger to insinuate he wasn’t done talking yet. He takes his sweet time downing his beer overly confident that his authority or charm (or both, Bruce supposed) were enough to keep the speaker’s spot open for him. And it was but not without the rest of their party sharing looks and eyerolls amongst themselves. Rhodes even going for a cough that from Bruce’s seat sounded awfully similar to the word asshole. Peter sinks in his seat first folding his arms on his chest but then unfolding them to reach for his non alcoholic champagne. He hides his stubborn frown in his glass.   
  
Usually when Tony’s drunken arrogance and cockiness reached its all-time high when the man was at this specific stage of drunkenness, Banner liked to glance at Steve Rogers from the corner of his eye. There was something oddly satisfying about the way he could always see Steve deciding to be the bigger man after the same mental battle probably the rest of the Avengers also went through when dealing with drunk Tony Stark. Even though Tony rarely got truly angry if his character was questioned, he tended to throw back personal insults each one more inventive than their predecessors, which then again set the ball rolling downhill. And once the ball would start rolling gravity wouldn’t stop to ask it whether it wanted to reach the low point. In other words, questioning Tony many times escalated into fights and usually such petty things as this show off of masculinity - as Tony probably saw it as - weren’t worth sacrificing an otherwise nice evening for.   
  
Bruce’s psychoanalysis is cut short when he feels something touching his shin. At first, the touch is light and could’ve been mistaken for an accident but it returns more distinctive.   
  
After a while of the uncomfortable silence the butt of Tony’s glass hits the clothed table and he is gracious enough to let them hear the rest of his sentence:   
  
“Parker here is the youngest of us all. That means he is our bright future, so his opinion on this matters the most.”   
  
“After you I suppose?” Steve Rogers asks while Bruce moves the tablecloth to peer under the table as subtly as possible. He can see a socked foot trailing up his leg, following the seam of his slacks. Not just any foot but Tony’s foot and Bruce could suddenly place the thud from earlier.   
  
Tony had taken off his shoe.   
  
Bruce swallows hard feeling his hands already starting to sweat. People had ever since the beginning liked to make jokes about their relationship being a little too friendly for Tony to be a taken man but as a rule these uncomfortable notions and statements had held no real ground. At least until one night Tony had started getting flirty. At first Bruce had brushed it off as Tony playing at his expense in order to throw him off but after a kiss they had almost shared in an elevator five o'clock in the morning Bruce had gotten hooked in their little game. Although he was more a pawn in Tony's game of how far he could take their flirting before Bruce would put an end to it. Or at least a label.

Tony Stark grins. “Obviously.”  
  
“Don’t people usually look up to older people specifically? Because of their life experience?” Natasha asks and Tony huffs.   
  
“This is more of a millennials’ debate, don’t you think?”   
  
It was fun and addictive sure, but then there was Pepper Potts. Even though her and Tony's relationship had always been rocky, Bruce wasn't a fan of the reality that he was letting himself be pulled in the middle of it. Most of all he hated just how much he had become to actually want that.

As Bruce Banner could remember vividly how hot Tony's breath had felt against his face and how soft the man's lips had been when they had brushed against his. Bruce had went as far as thanking Vision for interrupting them (without really saying why he had been so happy to see the android show up in the elevator unannounced through the closed door), which had left the android looking confused. And the next morning when Pepper had showed up at the lab bearing coffee and donuts he had really wanted to go find Vision and hug him too for preventing him from making a huge mistake. But all his moments of self-awareness were more like those small moments of clarity in a dream when you realize you're asleep. So, not very frequent or helpful.   
  
In any case Tony proposing to her out of the blue had led Banner to believe that just like everything enjoyable in life their flirting had come to an end. Which had actually been a relief because he had learned very quickly that he couldn't trust himself around Tony.

...But unfortunately, one of them hadn’t read the memo.  
  
Bruce tries to lock eyes with Tony to silently tell him to stop whatever he was doing but the brown eyes are occupied following the young waitress who is circling around them pouring more wine to their glasses. He feels the touch trailing his inner thigh before landing on his crotch with a sudden harshness. Although the force is not nearly enough to hurt him it’s more than enough to make the man flinch violently in his seat yet again as he hadn’t expected Tony to be that bold. Luckily his sudden jolt makes the intrusive foot drop as well.   
  
“You alright there, Dr. Banner? You seem a little flustered,” Tony asks hiding his wicked grin into his napkin.   
  
Bruce nods awkwardly feeling a blush creeping up to his cheeks. The amount of exercises in self-control should’ve already made him a zen master but disappointingly enough, hadn’t. Sure, his composition had become generally calmer and more collective, which was a progress he so often found solace from, but Tony seemed to be someone capable of backpedalling almost all of it. Bruce doesn’t only find it annoying how Tony could make him lose his cool so quickly but also worrying.   
  
“You sure? You seem a bit jumpy,” Steve presses with a serious look on his face. Forehead wrinkled and all, which is a stark contrast to Tony’s light demeanour.   
  
Bruce tears his eyes off the man, who seemed to be too busy to return his gaze in any case and forces a smile that is almost certain to look awfully disingenuous despite his effort. But then again from time to time he felt like most of his smiles were a result of pressure to act according to social norms so maybe it was just one of many. Nothing worth raising one’s eyebrows for.   
  
“Haven’t been getting enough sleep lately,” he manages to say before his breath gets stuck on his throat when the pressure on his thigh returns. Tony’s toes massage Banner’s inner thigh making his pulse rise alarmingly fast. “Long nights in the lab,” he clears his throat turning to his water glass for something to hold on to, “risking a little too much caffeine – But I won’t be flipping any tables soon if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

His thoughts are running around his head in panic as he tries to calculate exactly how flustered he could get before it becoming a problem. Getting a boner isn't at the top of the list of Bruce's worries but rather the fact that he had been slowly building up frustration that tended to manifest itself in the form of anger. He could practically hear the adrenaline being pumped into his blood circulation.   
Communicating these feelings to Tony while simultaneously trying not to feel them is like juggling with chainsaws and unfortunately juggling isn’t one of Bruce Banner’s strong suites. In fact, he was god-awful at it.

“I’m not worried about the Hulk,” Rogers assures to Bruce, who in his lack of concentration caused by all his precious blood running down into his crotch hadn’t even noticed how accidentally self-deprecating his words had sounded. And if he would’ve been able to think clearly, he would’ve appreciated Steve’s considerateness. But the fact of the matter was that Tony’s foot had reached his crotch again and the sheer pressure is making his slacks feel uncomfortably tight. Bruce couldn’t decide whether he wanted to beat or fuck Tony senseless. Anything to wipe away the arrogant smile and cool act.  
  
“Shouldn’t you be, though?” Tony asks and honestly Bruce is amazed how untroubled he seems even though under the table - safe from everyone’s eyes - he is basically sexually harassing his teammate. Although to be completely honest, his crime isn’t exactly that severe as his touch would’ve not been necessarily unwelcomed in different circumstances. That being said, there is a time and a place for everything and in the middle of a gala dinner, surrounded by important politicians, military officers and god forbid their team members, definitely isn’t the correct time to engage in sexual activities. Especially if you just so happen to be very publicly engaged with the CEO of your company. At least in Bruce Banner’s mind. Tony obviously doesn’t think any of this mattered. But then again, Tony also apparently doesn’t mind risking letting the Hulk out. Either that or then his trust in Bruce’s self-control is impeccable.   
  
Meanwhile, two seats from Tony Stark, Peter Parker has all the time in the world to regret his decision to come. Since his identity hadn’t been revealed to the public he was considered as Tony’s plus one and was therefore treated differently from the other Avengers by the other guests and staff. This added to the fact that he had gotten barely any chance to speak the whole night without getting interrupted makes him push his fork towards the edge of the table until it drops to the floor clattering softly. He reaches down to pick it up and steals a glance at his phone that was flooded with texts from Ned. Mostly questions like:   
  
_Holy shit is Captain America drunk? Can he even get drunk? Are you allowed to drink? Wait, can you get drunk either? Is Black Widow as hot in real life as she is in pictures? Can you take a picture?_  
  
Would Tony not have been so drunk, and Bruce not so concentrated on keeping himself from turning red (or green), they probably would’ve noticed Peter Parker hitting his head on the underside of the table in his haze to get up after noticing Tony’s foot in a very inappropriate place.   
  
“Not like you could kick his ass and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t like me operating my suit drunk,” Tony Stark chuckles tipping his glass to Steve before sipping from it.   
  
“Oh, here we go again,” Sam groans abandoning his cutlery on his plate. “Excuse me, I’m going to head to the bar. I need something stronger to tolerate you. Anyone else want something?”   
  
“I could take a scotch,” Clint Barton smiles leaning back on his chair. Bruce doesn’t mean to find it comforting how unwillingly the man seemed to be there with them, but he does. Clint was the type of person who rarely missed out on an opportunity to smile but had now been mostly quiet. Face so expressionless it was painfully obvious how much he would’ve wanted to be at home with his family. Although, in all honesty, Bruce had noticed hours ago that Tony and James were probably the only ones actually enjoying the gala – and even Rhodey’s enjoyment had decreased in value with every glass of wine Tony had drank during the night, which meant that the poor man’s nerves were wearing alarmingly thin.   
  
“I’ll make it double,” Sam Wilson says faking a smile as he gets up with newfound spring in his step.   
  
“You’re particularly annoying tonight, you know that, Tony?” Natasha asks a rhetorical question with a soulless smile painted on her red lips, which makes the archer sat next to her chuckle quietly.   
  
“Could that be considered as an achievement?” Tony asks.   
  
“Probably,” Steve replies just a little too quickly for Tony’s liking.   
  
“On the bright side, at least you can’t get worse,” Natasha hums playfully.   
  
“Don’t dare him,” Rhodes says quickly widening his eyes dramatically, “you have no idea.”   
  
Tony laughs heartily at his friend’s words starting to massage the growing bulge in Bruce’s pants. The waves of pleasure running through the man are tainted with nervousness that make his toes tingle.   
  
“I think I have some idea,” Banner says through gritted teeth as his shaking hands slip under the table to finally grab the body part infiltrating his personal space, which makes Tony finally acknowledge his presence.   
  
“You’re a little  _tense_ there, Brucie. But I get it. It has been a  _really hard_ day,” the man says locking eyes with Bruce Banner and daring to stretch the words tense and really hard a little too much. Peter inhales his water going on a coughing fit that conveniently for Bruce draws the other’s attention away from them.   
  
"Stop it," the man mouths to Tony. Eyes big and definitely more pleading than he would’ve liked them to be. Tony, however, isn’t buying it. He only looks at Bruce with an arched brow like he would’ve had no idea that Bruce’s clammy hands were squeezing his foot with crushing strength.   
  
Banner pushes Tony’s foot off glancing at drunken Steve preforming a Heimlich maneuver on Peter who is breathlessly trying to tell the man how he was okay.   
  
“At first I was kind of glad Thor couldn’t make it but now I kind of miss him. He makes a show but at least he has an excuse being an Asgardian and all that,” James Rhodes states once Clint starts laughing at how nauseous Peter ends up looking after Steve’s uncalled for rescue attempt.   
  
“Steve used to be a dancing monkey and you know what they say about dancing monkeys, Rhodes?” Tony smirks playing with his golden engagement ring. Taking it off and twirling it between the tips of his fingers.   
  
“What do they say?” Natasha asks tilting her head slightly before casting an evaluating look that bounces between Bruce and Tony.   
  
“That they dance,” Tony answers furrowing his brows like the question would’ve been the stupidest thing he had ever heard.   
  
“But aren’t we all just that?” Bruce asks before he can stop himself and grimaces after realizing what a mood killer he had been all night.   
  
“You could say that but at least we always dance like there is no tomorrow,” Natasha smiles, eyes following Clint who gets up from his seat muttering something about getting his drink himself as Sam had seemingly just vanished into thin air from the bar’s proximity.   
  
“I’m sorry to be a drag, I just – you know how I hate these things,” Bruce speaks with a low voice being careful to direct his words only at Natasha in order not to encourage Tony's behaviour.   
  
“You and me both, Bruce,” the woman replies giving Banner an empathetic look before hurrying after Clint who from the look of his walking had already had plenty enough to drink.   
  
“Don’t worry, Doctor. I know just the medicine to pick up your mood,” Tony smiles lopsidedly watching Natasha’s receding back while still playing with the shiny ring in a way too carefree manner considering what the small piece of jewelry was probably worth.   
  
Bruce’s heart misses a beat and a jolt of unwanted arousal runs through him as he realizes what Tony is about to do.   
  
“No, no, no, no,” he chants quietly shaking his head. He begins wondering how obvious his boner would be to the other quests if he would have to flee the scene. Although preferably he didn’t want to risk influential politicians and high-class investors seeing him walking around their gala with an erection. But he wondered if getting on board with Tony’s idea was any better. Probably not. In fact, it was most likely worse. A lot worse.

He has to consider what the fact that he was staying spoke about his character. More than he would’ve liked for sure.  
  
“Fuck me,” Bruce breathes quietly when Tony licks his lower lip and smiles lopsidedly before dropping the ring.  
  
Tony would pay for this later.  
  
“Fuck me,” Tony huffs looking at his hands, “I think I dropped my wedding ring.”  
  
The little sense that is still left in Bruce makes him want to hug himself for realizing he could just crawl under the table to get it himself. He doubted Tony would be stupid enough to follow him. However, he doesn’t get the chance to move a muscle before the young beautiful waitress gasps at Tony’s words lifting her petite hands on her lips.  
  
“Oh, no, sir. I can get it for you,” she offers, and Bruce can see Tony debating the same thing as he himself is (although Bruce does it out of sheer politeness unlike Tony who was only interested in executing his devious plans): Would it be weird to insist getting it himself? Banner ends up against insisting but Stark doesn’t.  
  
“Thank you, honey, but I can get it,” he offers his words with a charming low voice, a subtle touch on her hand and even a wide smile but the waitress interprets it according to social guidelines: As a fake offer out of courtesy. Bruce tries to use this time to calm himself down, to get his heart to slow down but he can’t help how aroused he is. He hadn’t begged himself to be an exhibitionist but apparently one could learn new things about themselves even at his age.  
  
“It’s no trouble, really,” the young woman says back smiling. Bruce is somewhat surprised the waitress doesn’t seem to be thrown off by the pet name even in the slightest. Quite the contrary, the slight blush decorating her high defined cheekbones tells a whole other story. Bruce couldn’t ever imagine himself getting away with calling an unknown person with pet names but then again perhaps that was something people had come to accept about Tony Stark.

Water is wet, the relativistic mass is always equal to the total energy divided by the speed of light squared, Tony Stark is the most altruistic and thoughtful asshole on the face of earth and so on. Nobody needed further proof to validate any of these stated facts. Although Bruce Banner sometimes considered himself to be a nobody.  
  
“Thank you, sweetheart but I mean it. I’m a big boy. I can get it myself,” Tony continues and now it’s officially weird. Rhodey re-seats himself next to Bruce, who hadn’t even noticed him leaving in the first place, with furrowed brows.  
  
“What’s up with you today? Just let her get you the ring,” he says and Bruce smacks him in the back cheerily. The sudden friendly gesture just seems to throw the man off even more.  
  
“I apologize for my friend. His manners must be on the bottom of that water glass that is unfortunately the only glass he hasn’t touched all evening,” Rhodes tells the waitress smiling widely to mask exactly how annoyed he is. He looks at Bruce from the corner of his eye and shoots a dagger at Tony before turning back to the gorgeous woman who had just claimed the empty seat on his other side.  
  
It’s Bruce’s time to smirk victoriously as the waitress squats down. And after that everything happens quickly: Tony answers his grin with a challenging eyebrow raise before knocking a glass of expensive chardonnay on himself and jumping up dramatically, legs of his chair scraping the carpeted floor.  
  
“Fantastic,” he mutters looking at the damage and the waitress jumps up gasping. “Actually, would you mind getting me a towel, honey?” Bruce is actually impressed by Tony’s acting skills. He could’ve absolutely been fooled by the act.  
  
“Yes, sir, absolutely! I’m so sorry, I must’ve knocked the table. I’ll be right back,” she blabs before hurrying on her way.  
  
Tony looks after her eyes trailing down her body before turning back to Bruce. He kneels down slowly, almost making a show out of it, and crawls under the table the long cloth covering his whole body nearly out of sight.  
  
Bruce leans the elbow closer to Rhodes to the table and rests his chin on his palm spreading his fingers in front of his mouth to obscure at least some of his tense expression as his other hand travels down on his lap to hush Tony’s hands off but it is an effort in vain. Tony’s fingers go straight for the zipper without bothering with the belt or the button. Bruce tenses up even more, if possible, when a hand gets shoved in his pants to trace the outline of his dick through the thin material of his boxers.  
  
His stomach jolts when he feels Tony’s hot breath alarmingly close and without even thinking about it he slams his fist on the table. His total being one broken plate, four knocked over glasses and three very spooked people. Rhodes, his love interest for the night and Clint who manages to save only some of his scotch from spilling. Steve and Peter had vanished when Bruce hadn’t been paying attention and Natasha was stuck at the bar with Sam.  
  
“Seriously!” Rhodey borderline yells as he turns to smile and wave to the other table parties that had all gone silent and turned their attention to the Avenger table once again. Even the distant sounding elevator-music had been turned off. Perhaps their DJ had interpreted the smashing as Hulk’s less subtle version of clinging your spoon with your glass before giving a speech.  
  
“All good,” Rhodes smiles awkwardly and Bruce exhales deeply as Tony had vanished from his immediate proximity and soon the devil himself stood up from under the table holding his wedding ring in hand.  
  
“Found it.”  
  
“Any chance of finding your manners as well? You’re embarrassing us,” Rhodes groans making Clint chuckle.  
  
“You’re absolutely right,” Tony says nodding with slightly squinted eyes. “I’ll go freshen up in the bathroom.” He takes the towel offered by the waitress and before leaving clears his throat so that Bruce doesn’t miss how instead of putting the ring back on his finger he drops it into his pocket.  
  
“Thank you, Jesus Christ,” Rhodes declares turning back to his date.  
  
“I –uh, I’ll go take a piss,” Bruce says scrambling himself off the chair while simultaneously zipping his slacks back up and Rhodes stares at him incredulously.  
  
“You’re unbelievable. TMI.”  
  
“It’s just pee, Rhodey,” Clint hums shrugging his shoulders.  
  
Bruce pulls his suit jacket lower as he begins walking after Tony, who hadn’t even bothered to put on his other shoe. It is one of those things that Bruce unwillingly had to admire about Tony Stark. The man lived according to his own rules. Not really paying any mind to social norms whenever those unsaid rules didn’t fit his agenda.   
  
“Why is Tony missing a shoe?” Steve asks upon returning to the table after walking past Tony and Bruce.  
  
“The thing with Tony is that at some point you just stop asking,” Rhodey answers reaching to pat Rogers on the shoulder.

 

**NED**

_OMG NED_  
_You won’t believe this_

_????_

_The craziest thing just happened!!_

_Can I call you!?_

**Incoming call NED**

_way ahead of you_

 

Peter picks up the call screaming silently in distress. “I don’t know where to even start this story!”  
  
“I don’t care! Start anywhere you’d like, just tell me. I’m dying here, Peter!” Ned whines back with urgency.   
  
“Okay, okay, so I crouched under the table because I was bored and I—” Peter stops talking the second his spideysense starts tingling, warning him of someone approaching his not-so-secret hideout. “I have to go. Someone's coming,” he whispers almost inaudibly ending the call despite his friend’s protests. Out of instinct he stands up on the toilet seat as he hears the door opening and two people entering. The other one speaking with a hushed voice.

“What the hell is the matter with you? You're engaged, you can't just do that-” the familiar voice speaks from outside the bathroom stall where Peter holds his breath. The other man hushes the speaker before by the sound of it starting to open the doors of the stalls one by one.

 _Fudge_ , Peter curses in his head starting to scan the fancy stall and the roof for an escape route but there didn't seem to be any unless he could flush himself down the toilet like in Harry Potter. He takes his shoes off as quickly and quietly as possible when the stall next to him is opened and shoves them inside his jacket undoubtedly ruining his white shirt.

He doesn't like the idea of getting caught hearing something that obviously hadn't been meant for his ears even if he hadn't exactly chosen to eavesdrop. So he steps from the toilet seat to mount himself on the slippery tile-wall of the stall just in time for the man opening the door to miss him.

“Lock the door, will you, Bruce?”  
  
Says a voice that undoubtedly belongs to Anthony Edward Stark.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having the worst writer's block and I'm struggling to write. This took me forever, haha. And I still feel like it's a lot more forced than my other works but a huge thx for getting this far! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
